Disembodied Voices
by Another Girl Grasping
Summary: Hermione and Ginny find a way to be together whilst trying to stay true to their husbands. Rated M for sexual content.


Disembodied Voices

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I do not own the settings.

A/N: Written to prove that words can speak as loudly as actions.

* * *

You sit across the room from me. Your ankles crossed, your eyes heavily lidded. People walk between us, moving this way, that way but our eyes don't leave one another. We have been ignoring it for so long. Your brother, my husband. Your husband, my best friend. Both nowhere to be found.

We've come to so many of these functions just to sit and stare at each other from a distance. We tried chatting and waiting for the party to end. For some reason it was always the worst part of the night, having to disengage and go home with our men. It's been two months since it happened and we haven't gotten best one another since. It would be a catastrophe if anyone found out. We are the two most public and important wives in the wizarding world currently. The scandal would be great in proportion, but it would ruin us both.

Sitting here, staring at you makes me wonder if its all you can think about as well. Are your hands itching like mine? Desperate for another touch, another taste. Mutinous images flash in my mind. Your tall, thin body pressed against mine, my back pressing hard into the wall. Your hands pinning my hands above us. Your lips at my throat, my head tossed back in reckless abandon. Oh traitor of a mind, please stop this, it isn't right, you're supposed to be on my side.

You're eyes have changed. You look as though you know what's on my mind. Like my face is screen projecting every sordid thought, every twisted fantasy. How did it come to this? I don't wish it on you... on me. This desire that simply cannot be ignored for all our wanting to do so. If this is weakness then I can only surrender.

The party view on this way, we turn from one another from time to time to entertain other guests, to portray the image of perfection that is so expected of us both. But sidelong glances at one another are unavoidable, a necessary evil. If I don't see you for too long I become restless. When the party ends you and Harry leave. We hug, a chaste, loose embrace that does nothing save for whet my appetites for you. From the look in your eyes it does much of the same to you.

Late that night our husbands are both sleeping, exhausted from their roles as host at the party. Ron fell asleep without wanting any love. I wonder if Harry did the same. I want to be with you so badly. I want to hear your voice, soft like the cool evening breeze in my ear.

I slip out of the bed gently, the silk on my bare legs feels like your lover's caress. I silently steal across the hard, cold tile floor. I remember buying you the cell phone for your 18th birthday so that we could keep in touch more easily, without having to put our faces into the fireplace. I pick mine up from the end table in my sitting room and I see that you thought of this first. A missed call makes the phone's light flash incessantly, demanding you be acknowledged. Your call wasn't 1:23. It's only 1:37 now, I wonder if you are still waiting for my reply or if you went to bed, after deciding I would be sleeping by now.

I send a very simple message to you via text."I'm here." When I feel my phone vibrate in my hand I release a long breath I didn't know I'd been holding. I answer your call, feeling like a twelve year old girl sneaking into the restricted section. You don't wait for me to say hello.

"I knew you would be." Is the first sentence in this conversation. I laugh quietly.

"I can't sleep." I say.

"Nor can I. I can't... I can't get you off my mind and its been two months since..." You trail off.

"Yes, I know. It hasn't been easy. Especially when you wear that plum color. It looks so striking against your alabaster skin, it makes your hair a positively fiendish fire." I tease. There was a time when her hair was a source of embarrassment to her, everyone is awkward when they're young, most of us don't have to go through it with red hair. She grew up to own it and she is just about the most appealing woman I have ever seen.

"That little blue number you had on hugged every curve you possess. With your olive skin it looked like waves crashing on the sand. I don't know what you're trying to do to me. It took all of my will not to promptly cross the room and slide hand fingers up your thigh." You inform me.

A moment of silence.

"Why didn't you?" I inquire. The hitch in your breath does not go unnoticed. Your façade crumbles like so many bricks with no mortar left to secure them to one another.

"I would not have been able to stop myself there. We've played these coy games of touching of seeing who can get away with being the most inappropriate without the room taking notice and I couldn't. The room would have taken notice Hermione, all I wanted was to slide my fingers into you. All I wanted was to kiss you until we absolutely had to part for fear of suffocation. I can't do this anymore. I need you." I can head the tremble in this urgent whisper. Need. I know much of need. All of your feelings are mutual. I make a decision. One that right save us for another function, help us get through one more party unscathed.

"Ginny, I want you to touch yourself for me." I almost lose my bravery, but it hold strong. I've crossed a line here, but I cannot make myself feel ashamed for it.

"Hermione... we can't... I can't..." You're saying can't, but you sound like putty in my hands. Your can't sounds like yes.

"Don't think, just listen to my voice and do as I say." I tell you. You let out along breath. I know I have you now. "Tell me what you're wearing." I demand.

"A nightgown." You reply. What color is it? Is it silk? Is it sheer? How long is it.

"Tell me more." I am hungry for you now.

"Its white, mid thigh length, silk... I'm not wearing anything under it." I practically growl at the images presented to me. I want to touch your soft, pale skin. I want you to shudder directly into my ear, but this will do for now.

"Let your fingers ghost across the skin on your inner thighs." Your breath becomes less even. "Are you doing it?" I ask.

"Yes." Comes your breathy reply. I smile.

"Are you standing?" I wonder.

"Yes." You say again and its like a whisper.

"Sit down and spread your legs, let your dress hike up your thighs." You groan, I know you're wish I were there to push you down into the chair, but my direction is firm and what I cannot do with my hands, I do with my voice. "Now pull your breasts above the fabric of the neck line, so you are exposed for me." I imagine I can hear the faint wishes of the silk against your moving skin. I imagine you sitting in your home, breasts exposed, dress hiked up, your beautiful slit glistening in the air.

"Okay, I've done as you said." You tell me. Good girl.

"Lick the tips of your index finger and thumb" I can hear the smack of your lips closing around your own fingers, it sends a thrill burning directly to my core, where I'm weeping for this. "Roll your nipple between those fingers. Be my tongue for me." I direct you. I smile at the pretty gasps you make following my lascivious directions. "You sound beautiful." I tell you and it serves to encourage you, your gasps become less contained.

"This feels so nice." You tell me.

"Mmm. Slide your hand down, between your breasts, over your stomach now, past your abdomen... I want you to caress yourself. Just outside, don't part your folds, just run your fingers over yourself." You moan quietly. This is nothing like when you masturbate. That is just a means to an end. I'm sure you try to finish as quickly as possible. But this is me, this is me fucking you with your own hands and I'm going to make slow love to you.

"Hermione..." you gasp out. I smirk.

"Yes, love?" I ask innocently.

"More, please, more." You want more. You want more of what I'm doing to you without doing it to you.

We're kissing without kissing  
We've got it down to a fine art

"Are you wet?" I ask. You hesitate. "Don't play coy with me, are you wet?" I demand.

"Yes." You reply. Mmm.

"How wet?" I love pushing you. I love bringing you to these places you hesitate to go.

"Soaking wet." You boldly inform me. My turn to groan.

"Slide one finger up and down your slit. Now slip between your foods and caress your clit for me." You moan at the contact you've been so impatiently waiting for. "Use slow circles. I want you to use your index finger on one side and your middle finger on the other, press your clit between the two and move in circles." I know you've complied from the almost steady stream of gasps and moans you're crooning for me.

"Mmm. Now slide those two fingers lower, dip them into yourself. Replace them with your thumb on your clit." There is a distinct moan that tells me you've entered yourself. I've crossed your threshold with your own fingers now. "Ride your own hand to completion, let me hear you." Your moans change from gentle to guttural instantly. You need this as much as I do.

I reach between my own legs, shocked at the amount of moisture pooling between my thighs. I unceremoniously shove three fingers into my own sex, spurred on by your sounds. I close my eyes and its you inside me, me inside you. You reach your orgasm first and listen to me.

"Oh gods yes." I gasp. You're silent, but I know your anxious to hear me finish. I'm nearing it. Pushing myself closer to the edge, getting ready to throw myself off this cliff. I need this, I need you.

Three simple words. That's all it takes. You step in and push for me. "Come for me." You demand and just like that I do. I come just for you, I come moaning your name, with tears in my eyes. I come like my life depends on it.

"That was lovely." You say after my moans subside.

"That was inevitable." I reply and we We make small talk for a while and bid one other good night. I don't think either of us will have trouble sleeping now.

* * *

Hit that button. Tell me how you love it!


End file.
